


Saturday

by stonerjohnlaurens



Series: History Obliterates (The Modern Hamilton Universe) [4]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: (It's Lafayette), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, It's College, Lams - Freeform, M/M, Non-binary character, One-Shot, Swearing, Underage Drinking, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-14 08:11:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5736127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonerjohnlaurens/pseuds/stonerjohnlaurens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Saturday, and John Laurens has very few obligations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saturday

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a fluffy thing to take a break from the longer fic I'm writing, Of Identity and Legacy.

John woke up at 10:00 am, four hours later than usual.

 

He jolted up initially, the red blinking alarm on his bedside table taunting him, realizing _oh shit I slept through a class, fuck, I’m going to fail I’m going to flunk out I’m going to have to move back to fuck fuck –_

 

No, wait, it’s Saturday.

 

Relief allowed him to settle down and sink under his covers again and for a short few minutes forget about the world. It’s _Saturday_. Oversleeping isn’t a thing if you haven’t any obligations on the weekends. After a good ten minutes of staring at the blank ceiling above, he leaped down from his lofted bed to actually start studying because, well, he couldn’t risk falling behind even a little bit.

 

Falling behind would mean moving back to South Carolina, and while the dirt patch of a state had its rustic charms, he wouldn’t go back there for a million dollars. In fact, if he were offered a million dollars to move back, he’d oblige only to take the reward money and fly back to New York.

 

New York City was a smog-coated land of skyscrapers and opportunity, two things that South Carolina could barely offer. Sure, the light pollution of the city obscured the night above, leaving John yearning for a star-studded sky, but anything was better than home.

 

Home was where Henry Laurens lived, a man of skewed morale and even more skewed judgement. Henry offered John no financial help when he decided to pursue a degree at King’s College, citing the fact that he always wanted his son to have a more “profitable” pursuit at Clemson University, preferably on the Pre-Law track. When John held his King’s College acceptance letter up above his head, triumph obvious in his face, claiming he wanted to get a Bachelor’s in Marine Biology, Henry’s dreams he forced upon his son were shattered, and he refused to spend a dime on his education. John would never forget how his father grimaced, a look so opposite to his mother’s encouraging face, snarling out a cruel “I hope you have the funds for that, Jack.”

 

Turns out he could raise up a lot in a few months. He got two jobs that he stayed with through post-high school/pre-college summer, diligently saving each paycheck, tip, and abandoned penny. Sure, his social life completely disintegrated and he barely made that C+ in Pre-Calculus, but he had the funds. He didn’t care about the acquaintances he made in his crappy 12 years of compulsory school in the Palmetto State. He only looked ahead. Ahead, above, and to the north.

 

And that made his situation all the sweeter, here he was, in _King’s College,_ on _his dime_. His rude father could never call him and berate him for his chosen field of study, simply because he wasn’t paying for it. The scholarships and grants John got carried most of the weight, and the other $11,000 he needed he raised himself, combining his summer earnings, a few allowances he saved, and a generous one grand given by sweet Eleanor Laurens, his mother and a woman who deserved all the best in life.

 

He stretched quickly and surveyed his surroundings. Ah yes, the room was junky once again. He had the decency to strip out of his pants and shirt prior to nodding off, leaving his only in green boxers. He ignored the usual mess and sat at his desk, his bare feet touching a strewn wine bottle beneath the wooden fixture. A quick glanced revealed two bottles, one completely drain of its contents and its twin filled half way with fermented liquid. John looked upon these fondly. He didn’t feel like puking his guts out, he thought, so he mustn’t have drunk these alone.

 

No, no, he had his friends over in his dorm last night, of course! Sneaking quietly past the RA’s door, he and his band of usual suspects ambled into his room, making sure to lock the door behind them so no one could intrude.

 

The night was a nice slow time. Hercules Mulligan, the perfectionist and ever so inspired fashionista, scribbled a few dress designs down on his tablet, limiting himself to one cup of whatever drink John had today. Lafayette leaned into his shoulder, their cup being constantly refilled, showing less consideration for their liver, drunkenly gushing over Hercules’ drawings. They were so close and so amiable, could they be dating? No, no, Hercules was straight, correct? Hercules’ heterosexuality could not be disputed, John decided, even if the longing looks in Lafayette’s eyes directed at the fashion student begged to differ.

 

The third of his friends, Alexander Hamilton, was also more liberal in his alcohol intake, laughing too loudly at every joke, every picture, every meme that he saw scrolling through his social media feeds. He sat at the desk John now sat at this morning, using John’s laptop because he was too lazy to use his own.

 

Alex left Chinese food on John’s desk – Sesame chicken and…this is _white rice,_ what the fuck? Not even chicken-fried? – and a plastic fork next to it. John swiped a finger over the mousepad of his still opened laptop and ate some of the cold meal. Even a semester at college leaves you with so little concern about the condition of a meal.

 

John groggily typed in the URL of the college’s Moodle page, ready to re-review the syllabi of his classes.

 

Is it too early for a sip? Perhaps. But it’s already tomorrow in Australia, right? Or something. And the bottle’s just _there._

 

It was a good life, a good life that he could keep as long as his grades stayed excellent.

 

As he reviewed the guidelines to his courses, he noticed a blinking notification on the taskbar. It was a Word document icon. He clicked it, and a bubble popped up, asking if he wanted to save the changes to the typed up document before closing it out. He hit cancel to read it, wondering what he or Alexander tipsily typed.

 

 

_My dearest Laurens,_

_It is quite a shame that it seems we only get together in the presence of alcohol, but I wish to convey to you that each second I spend with you is an eternity of bliss, a moment in time which rivals only the building of the Library of Alexandria. I love you, my dearest Laurens, and I hope we can soon partake in soberer activities. I do wish that we could perhasps go to a ggggggggggggggggggggg  g gggghghfdgklkk    fg kkkkkkkkkkkkkkhggggggggggggg_

 

John laughed too loudly for such an early morning. Alexander had not only somehow written a drunken love letter more eloquent than anything John ever could imagine, but he also fell asleep on his keyboard while doing so. His bombastic laughed was met with a small whimper, causing John to jump.

 

There on the bed parallel to his, a bed sheet-less and cold due to John wishing not to have a roommate, was the author of the letter himself, shifting on the naked mattress, his hair messily splashed on the pillow, breathing so quietly. John must’ve been so shocked by the time; he didn’t notice Alexander stayed over.

 

John left his desk and took the comforter off of his own bed, placing it over Alexander in the normally empty one. He then maneuvered his way next to Alex, lying next to him, trying not to stir him too much from sleeping. Alexander blinked away his slumber and looked hazily at John, and a small smile started on his face.

 

John kissed Alexander’s forehead and let a careful hand pet his black, smooth hair.

 

“Good morning, baby girl.”

 

Alexander hummed happily at his pet name, leaning forward to nuzzle his face into John’s chest. John sighed and continued stroking the drowsy boy’s hair absent-mindedly, seriously considering staying like this for the rest of his life.

 

“I think Mulligan put me over here. He probably thought I was too drunk to walk across campus. I’m sorry.” Alex muttered bashfully into John’s pecs. John laughed softly and kissed Alexander’s forehead again.

 

“You’re always welcome to stay over, Alex, even at the most inconvenient time.” He assured. “I loved your note.”

 

Alexander buried his face deeper into John’s chest. His warm breath and nose exhales showed John that he was embarrassed. “I told Mulligan to delete that. Or at least I thought I did.”

 

“He was lazy about it and just pressed the x to close the window. But don’t be embarrassed. I really liked the note. Maybe we should get together more often, and in more sober situations. I’d like that.”

 

Alexander hesitated before giving a noise in approval. He allowed his tense muscles to relax into a soft cuddle with John, being lured back to sleep by John’s reassurance and his adamant hand travelling through his locks.

 

Home was not where Henry Laurens lived, John decided. It wasn’t where Eleanor Laurens lived, nor where his room was tidied up by a maid. No, home was here, in this dorm room, a dusty old containment on the first floor of the freshman housing, air twined with the pungent smell of booze and old Chinese food, walls decorated with age-old stickers never properly peeled off, pictures of things that made John happy – turtles, protesting posters, pictures of his friends, to name a few – and lazily hung strings of Christmas lights. Home was in New York, here in this moment, with Alexander breathing so softly, so close, so intimately to his body, in a moment where fear didn’t accompany his feelings towards men, where he could be himself _completely._ Home was here, and it felt as if he never had another home.

 

He held tight to Alexander’s waist with his right hand, allowing the left in his hair to relax. He too wished to nap, now. Homework could wait for Sunday. For now it was Saturday, and he hadn’t a more important obligation.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I literally just woke up, described my dorm room, and added Lams to the mix. Creative, no?  
> hamilton tumblr: actualjohnlaurens  
> main twitter: @gayjohnlaurens


End file.
